Bide
by The8thNeedle
Summary: No man or woman ever considered the desires of the one who never responds. The one thing they thought they could tell their secrets to, beat up and cry with at the same time. They never ask how he gets back up after each blow they send him, or why. Which is why they will never see it coming.


Bide

I live an odd life. I am forever trapped on a white platform, encompassed by a whiter room. There isn't really anything to do, other than just sit there and look at the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Sometimes, when I'm feeling a bit wild and edgy, I gaze down, into the abyss off the ledge- it always creeps me out, but in what other way will I spice up my life a bit?

I'm guessing there are others like me, but I haven't met any of them. After all, I'm a sentient being- and nobody can make life. It must be via procreating of some sort- not that I have any reproductive organs that I know of. I've been one of the two things I can examine, being in this room for so long.

My life, as empty as it may seem, is occasionally filled with life- it's nearly never joyous, however. Someone, on what seems to be the night of a full, blue moon, when the planets align, and when Chuck Norris exhales his last breath, another sentient being joins me for a brief bit. The first time, it was a red and blue mustached man in overalls. He kicked me, punched me, lit me on fire, put the fire out (and subsequently soaking me) and other terrible things. He didn't even look like he cared if I paid heed to his actions. After I guess he had his fill of unnecessary violence for the day, he walked away and left me on the ground. It took me weeks to stand again.

These days periodically continued, each as uncommon as the last. Sometimes, it was an elf with a sword, others a robot-looking thing with a gun in its arm, sometimes even a little boy with a baseball bat. His childish demeanor might fool someone at first, but after he attacked- man, you were in all spots of the thermometer. The pattern continued relentlessly. Nearly all of them even had the _nerve _to cry out as they hit me- did they think _they _were the ones in pain right now? They should try taking a beating like this. They didn't even stop once, to consider how I felt.

But there was one… A green haired girl came to the sandbag once. She held her katana at her side, but she did not strike the bag. The bag fell from her hands, quivering with her tear-filled eyes, as she joined her blade on the floor of the platform. She spouted out all of her deepest secrets, and the reason she was so depressed- a single boy. He had advanced away from her, oblivious of her feelings for him. I couldn't do anything, but I watched as she wished I could respond to her. I feel guilty, knowing I maybe just could have twitched, to reveal my presence- but I was both speechless and motionless as her tears fell. After she left, unfortunately, all returned back to normal.

Someone left me halfway across the edge of the platform once. The bright white void beneath me was frightening to look at for so long. I didn't dare move, lest I fall to my eventual doom. After a while, someone came and put me back up, but I still remember the look of that pit, beckoning to me from its depths.

My regular schedule continues, but nowadays, when they are gone, I move about more. I swing myself at where I would imagine them to be, wishing I could see their surprised faces once I strike them down with ease and efficiency. _Soon. _I tell myself. _I will bide my time, and I will strike when I am at peak strength. _I charge at nothing when nobody is around, but when they do come back, I study their fighting styles, to take them down easier. As I grow stronger, they also grow more predictable, and I shall defeat them.

They should have been more considerate- they don't know what I've gone through in the past, and they never asked why or how I got up after they knocked me down. The girl will be the only one that lives. She does not understand my pain, but she had one of her own. The others were indifferent to both hers and mine. But they had their chance, and I now have mine.

Maybe they should have thought twice before they the sandbag with a baseball bat.


End file.
